Nightmare
by Yikiri
Summary: Sebastian visits the young master after a particularly bad nightmare that causes Ciel to rethink his entire life since making a contract with a demon. Characters and cover image (c) Toboso Yana
1. Comfort

_His eyes fluttered open, taking in his dim, candlelit surroundings. The bars of his cage casted long pinstripes along his face alongside the streaks ever-present tears made in grimy cheeks._

_"Ciel," a voice whispered from beyond the cell. He thought he recognized the voice, but his mind, weak from hunger and pain, could not validate the suspicion. Suddenly, the Phantomhive heir was fatigued, and the freezing cold floor wasn't as uncomfortable as it seemed before._

_"Ciel!" The voice became more insistent as eyelids slid shut over cerulean eyes. The boy began to feel afraid as his mind woke up slightly. Had he angered his captors?_

_He raised his eyes, trying to locate the owner of the voice. Identical eyes suddenly met, and Ciel scurried backwards, his bare back smashing into the frigid stone._

_"Mother?" Another silhouette accompanied the speaker. Tall and black-haired—much like himself. "Father?"_

_"Don't address us as such. How can we be your mother and father when we're dead and you aren't?" his father's voice scoffed. Ciel flinched at his words._

_"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he sobbed, clenching his fists on the filthy ground. Abruptly, he was pinned against the wall by his throat. The boy cried out, dirty hands reaching up to pull at whatever had him up against the wall._

_"You could've done something to save us, _son_," his mother hissed scathingly, hand tightening at his throat. Ciel choked for air, but the hand didn't relent._

_"Who are you, a child, to survive when we didn't?"_

_He was unexpectedly allowed to drop back to the floor. The guilt building up inside him felt like it was gnawing at his insides; he couldn't take it._

_A long scream ripped through a throat already raw from crying, shattering the pretentious silence of the room._

"Young master? Are you all right?"

Ciel's eyes flew open as he abruptly sat straight in bed. Subconsciously, he pulled the blankets tightly around himself, seeking to snuff out the feeling of _their _hands on him. The room was dark—was he still in the cell? No, he had a blanket, so that couldn't be. Where was he?

"Wh-where am I?" Ciel inquired in a trembling voice. "Who are y-you?"

"We are in your mansion, young master. I'm Sebastian, your butler, remember? Did you have another nightmare?" Sebastian gazed into the eyes of the terrified child, pity and confusion pooling itself in his stomach.

A weight settled itself next to the boy on the bed. Ciel resisted the urge to flinch. _Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian. _He was the one who saved the boy from that hell of which he had been dreaming mere seconds ago.

"Sebastian. . ." he whispered, fighting the tears springing in his differently colored eyes.

"Yes, my lord?"

Unable to take the turmoil flooding his being, the proud earl collapsed into tears, sobbing incoherently. "Sebastian, I'm frightened," he cried, leaning his head into the large frame of his butler.

There was a moment's hesitation before the demon brought an arm up, sweeping the sobbing boy into his embrace. Ciel cried onto his shoulder, curling his small fingers into Sebastian's black jacket.

He could tell that his butler was surprised at his display of emotion. He hadn't cried since they made their deal—the demon probably believed that his master had no tears left to produce. But that nightmare had broken through his carefully constructed walls of indifference.

"What are you frightened of?" Sebastian asked softly, tentatively stroking the boy's hair. He hoped this was the proper way to go about calming a victim of the trauma his master had endured. The stiff way in which the boy held himself relaxed slightly at the caress, and a small smile graced Sebastian's fine features.

"I don't want to be alone. Th-they're blaming me. It's my fault they're dead. They hate me, they hate me."

"I will always be by your side, master." Sebastian could not reassure the boy in regard to his second statement, since he could not speak about what he didn't know. "I never lie."

Ciel pulled away, the blue of his eyes intensified by the still-falling tears. "Why am I alive?"

"I don't know, my lord. Please, calm down." The demon hated seeing his master like this. The strength of this child was remarkable, astonishing even a demon. _We all have our breaking points, _Sebastian thought to himself as he held the boy. _Perhaps the fact that it has taken this long for him to buckle attests to that strength. _

"I want to join them, Sebastian. Take my soul—take it, please. I don't want to live, Sebastian, I don't want to live."

"My lord, I thought you wanted—"

"I want my parents!" Ciel sobbed. "I don't want to be alone! I see them everywhere—Mother knitting in her chair, Father at his desk. . . . They're even there when I'm asleep!" The boy's slender fingers raised to touch his throat, unmarred despite its fate in his nightmare.

"Sebastian, I'm begging you. Take my soul. End this, here and now."

Sebastian moved the boy so he was facing the demon, eyes taking in Ciel's childishly round face. Tears continued to pour from the boy's bi-colored eyes, but his dark eyebrows were drawn angrily over the violet and cobalt depths. His butler raised his own hand to his mouth, biting off the white glove he nearly always wore. Then, he moved so that he was cupping the child's face, his black-nailed thumb brushing away the wetness under his right, contract-branded eye.

_How strange, _the demon thought. _This . . . substance, tears, has replaced the blood from before. . . . _

"Young master, I will not take your soul," Sebastian replied carefully in an uncharacteristic whisper. "Our contract is not fulfilled."

The demon was shocked at his response, which he had not planned to give. Here was Ciel Phantomhive, the container of the delicious soul he so desired, offering a demon his soul before their contract was fulfilled. He had awaited such a moment for nearly four years; but why did he feel so . . . guilty?

"I don't care; I want my parents. Getting revenge won't bring them back." The boy's chest heaved labored breaths, and for a minute, Sebastian feared he would hyperventilate. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

"Ciel," Sebastian said gently, drawing his young master back into his embrace, holding the tiny, fragile frame gently to his chest. "Don't you see? I am here. You are not alone."

Ciel's moist eyes widened as his butler used his given name, the deep, masculine voice replicating his father's easily. He looked up at the face which so closely resembled Vincent Phantomhive's, acknowledging the fact he had denied since he and Sebastian first met. Hesitant arms wrapped around his butler's neck, and the Phantomhive rested his cheek on Sebastian's shoulder, the fabric damp from his tears.

"Your life is but a second of mine," Sebastian said. "I don't think I should mind remaining here for a while longer."

The tension in the child's body relaxed with a shaky sigh. He remembered the first time he had such a horrible nightmare compared to now and marveled at the obvious differences. Though he wasn't sure if his butler was merely keeping up with the aesthetics he valued so much or not, he had certainly become entirely more comforting. Ciel hated to admit it, but even a proud creature like himself needed such emotional stimuli. He smiled gratefully into the butler's shoulder and whispered, "Thank you, Sebastian."


	2. The Aftermath

Ciel's large eyes opened to meet burgundy irises framed by pitch black lashes staring at him. Though startled at first, the boy relaxed when he realized it was only his butler. The black-clad man was seated on the far side of his bed. By the way the comforters had shaped around him, he had been there a length of time. The Phantomhive heir was slightly surprised at this. He hadn't expected Sebastian to remain with him. His mind had taunted him about the probability of Sebastian merely telling his master what he wanted to hear. He was fully ready to pretend like nothing had happened, or to endure any snide remarks on his servant's part.

But the demon only stared at him with those unreadable eyes—vacant of condescension or amusement.

Ciel blinked dully at Sebastian. The motion was uncomfortable; his eyes were horribly swollen by the tears shed the night before. He wondered if the effect was visible to Sebastian, but hissed at the thought. He had allowed himself to show _a demon _weakness. He had asked him to take his soul; yet, the young Phantomhive couldn't bring himself to regret it. His life was agony—there was no other way to put it. Even the purpose that unwittingly summoned a demon straight from hell no longer sated him. Despite his beautiful fiancée, his stately manor, and his loving servants, Ciel Phantomhive was utterly unhappy. He felt a sort of superficial peace in their presence; but true tranquility was only achieved when his pitch black butler was at his side. He hated it, but Sebastian was his pillar of strength—a person on whom he relied completely. His bond with the demon went well beyond using the creature of hell's power. He needed the entire entity that was Sebastian Michaelis.

"Well?" Ciel suddenly snapped, his anger not directed at Sebastian, but rather at himself. "What are you doing here, sitting idly about?"

Sebastian continued to stare at the boy, his familiar smirk still absent. "Don't you remember? You asked me to remain with you." An elegant, porcelain white finger pointed to the disheveled covers of the entire bed, rather than the usual disarray on the right side. Ciel realized that he had indeed fallen asleep in Sebastian embrace, and that the demon had acted as any butler would to keep his distraught master from waking.

"I. . ." Ciel bit his lip, fumbling with the edge of his comforter. "Thank you for . . . uh. . ."

Sebastian suddenly smiled sadly. The expression shocked the earl. Since when were his smiles anything but mocking?

"Say no more, my lord. It is not the Earl Phantomhive's place to thank his servants," his butler intoned gently, pulling out his pocket watch. "It is still very early. Would you like to rest for a while longer? I will wake you accordingly."

"No," Ciel responded, though his eyes felt itchy with tiredness. "But I will remain in my quarters for today. Tell the servants to stay out of here when they wake."

"Yes, young master. I will prepare your tea, if you will excuse me—"

Panic filling the young boy, Ciel's small hand grabbed Sebastian's wrist as he made to lift himself from the bed. "My lord?" his butler inquired, staring at the fingers wrapped around his limb.

"Ah." Ciel snatched his hand back, his nails digging into his palm painfully. "Yes, of course."

"Are you sure you are fine?"

"Of course," the young boy snapped, expertly hiding the turmoil he felt within himself. "Who is a mere servant to question his master?"

Sebastian's eyes narrowed as he appraised the young boy who seemed so small compared to the vast expanse of his bed. Ciel guardedly watched his butler as the demon's face suddenly fixed itself into the usual confident smile.

"I will be back shortly," Sebastian said, bowing deeply to the earl. "Please, forgive my insolence."

The Phantomhive kept his stern expression in place until his onyx-clad butler left the room. He fell back into his pillows resignedly, shutting his eyes against the mocking, golden light of morning. He was questioning his sanity, his butler was questioning his sanity—was there anything _to _question? Perhaps he hadn't recovered from that month as well as he had thought. Yes, the strength and protection of a demon straight from Hell had helped; but could children like the ones he had seen with Baron Kelvin truly return to sanity, despite what he had told Sebastian at the warehouse about his situation? After seeing their eyes, he had begun to question himself. Now, Sebastian would only logically be wondering the same thing. When would he grow tired of having a master who lost the vindication under which he made a deal with the devil? When would he lose patience with this mundane existence and take the child whom he served faithfully at his request and break the contract early?

Ciel was nagged by his butler's reassuring words last night. Sebastian was not prone to such soft words—what about last night had been different? Did he merely act as an appropriate butler and attempt to soothe his terrified master? The young boy would've blown off the night prior as such a motive, but his butler's actions the morning following did not support his hypothesis. The somber look that graced the man's features was different from any he had seen since the day they met. Had he truly been rattled by Ciel's breakdown? While every extinct the earl possessed—everything he knew about his butler—told him to reject that theory, something about Sebastian's words and mannerisms made him wonder.

His nightmares had ceased a year after returning to his rebuilt mansion. However, when they had occurred, the most Sebastian could do was stand in the room and wait until he fell asleep, a dark—albeit comforting—presence that lulled him to sleep. With this sudden return of haunted dreams, Sebastian's actions were entirely unusual. He actually held the crying boy. For a moment, Ciel Phantomhive had felt at peace; but the moonlit tranquility disappeared with the rising of the sun. Now, he could only wonder at the implications.

"Young master?" Sebastian's voice intruded on his tormented pondering, his favorite fragrance of Earl Grey permeating the room. "You do not look well."

Ciel's eyes slowly opened, blinking twice before focusing on the tall demon before him. "Is that Earl Grey?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Yes, my lord. It is your preference, indeed?"

"Of course." Large eyes drifted over to the window, which no longer allowed the passage of yellow beams of light. Heavy clouds had covered the sun. Keen, scarlet orbs followed the boy's gaze as he placed the large teacup in his hands.

"It looks like snow," Sebastian commented. He smiled slightly as Ciel raised the teacup to his lips, sipping the perfectly brewed liquid.

"Hmm." Ciel considered his butler's words and the tea. "I'm going to the courtyard after my tea."

His butler didn't react to the sudden change of his master's plans for the day. "I shall accompany you."

"No," the boy said quickly. "I shall go alone."

Sebastian's eyes widened slightly, but he regained his composure quickly. With a deep bow, he said, "Yes, my lord."

* * *

Ciel shivered undetectably under the heavy clothing Sebastian insisted he wear, his breathing slightly ragged deep within his chest. The wool was effective at trapping his body heat, but there wasn't much to lose in the first place. His nose had frozen a while ago, becoming a point of absolute numbness. The cold wind that whistled so eerily through the barren branches of the trees pierced the skin of his cheeks, sending them on their way to a state of frigid unfeeling as well. Regardless of his discomfort, the boy continued to walk down the winding paths of his manor's courtyard. The more distance he put between himself and the mansion that promised such material warmth, the better he felt. He supposed that the enormous manor was only a part of it. More of the relief came from having a break from his infuriatingly confusing butler. Though he never failed to be comforted by the demon sworn to protect him, seeds of insecurity had been planted in the boy's mind, either growing or withering under certain circumstances. In light of the occurrence last night, the thought was thriving, its poisonous tendrils reaching to captivate the entirety of his mind.

Just Sebastian had predicted, small, pristinely white flakes began to blur his vision. They were few at first, but in minutes the air was thick with snow. As he drew in another breath of frigid air, a drawn-out cough escaped in an effort to clear the uncomfortable, constricted feeling in his chest and lungs. Ciel suddenly recalled the bittersweet memory of himself and Lizzy frolicking about in such conditions, bright pink hands packing the white substance into misshapen globs to haul at one another. Her aim was always deadly, but Lizzy never outdid her fiancé and missed whenever he did. His mother and father would have to come outside themselves to bring the children back inside, since the snow acted as insulation and effectively trapped the joyous Ciel Phantomhive and his beautiful fiancée in their own utopia.

Ciel leaned down, scraping up the small amount of snow that had clung to the grass perfectly kept by Finnian. His black leather gloves did little to retain heat, and the crumbling snowball quickly sapped all warmth from them. The earl was audibly wheezing now, just as he had all those years ago; but he was beyond caring. He was the Earl of Phantomhive—if he wanted to be outside, he would be outside. His parents were no longer here to pick him up and take him inside despite his protests. His hands crushed the snowball suddenly at the thought. He would do as he pleased.

He ripped his jacket off, throwing the muffling apparel to the side viciously. The shivering now resembled more violent spasms, shaking Ciel's fragile physique. He resisted the urge to rub his arms for heat, refusing to show any more weakness. If he couldn't handle a bit of snow, he didn't deserve to be his father's successor. As the wind gusted into his face, Ciel gritted his teeth to halt their chattering. Caught in the heat of his anger, he ferociously tore his black eye patch off, casting it aside where it could be buried in the snow. He couldn't entirely muffle the sporadic coughs, but attempting to entirely mask the way they rattled his body alongside the fierce shaking that had taken root made his muscles sorer and sorer with every passing moment.

The coughs became more ragged and nasty, thoroughly shaking the small frame of Ciel Phantomhive. He could not successfully inhale any oxygen, and his head was beginning to spin from the lack of air. Fire raced through his chest, throat, and lungs, but the dark-haired boy persistently trudged further down the path. His legs felt leaden as more effort was required to keep up their ill-fated pace. With his brain malfunctioning, try as he might, he couldn't get his legs to move anymore. They crumbled with no commands from his mind to keep moving, and Ciel smashed face-first into the cold, snow-dusted concrete of the walkway. He did not feel the extraordinary pain in his left cheekbone or the frigid temperatures of the ground seeping into his limbs, nor did he notice when melting snow ran into his singly unmarred, streaming eye.

He subconsciously curled in on himself, tucking his quivering limbs near his chest. His ragged coughing was more frequent than any attempt to breathe, and the vision in his right eye had begun to be claimed by a comforting blanket of darkness. All the fight had been sucked from him, accompanying the little body heat stolen by the glacial ground. Ciel was quick to give in to the darkness, eyelids sliding glossily over tormented eyes. Increasingly bold winds gusted around the small Phantomhive, whistling near his ear and through frozen locks of ashen hair. The snow accumulating on his frail body was a comforting embrace to Ciel's fading and delirious consciousness. As all feeling nearly abandoned the boy, he smiled.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I wasn't anticipating writing a second chapter. . . However, a particularly nice reviewer convinced me to continue this story and practice my mental ability on building a plot. This may very well turn into a multi-chapter fic in which Ciel battles his questioning of his sanity alongside Sebastian. I hope that Ciel isn't too out of character here—I feel like if he were to break down, anger and masochism would be his way of showing emotion. Any thoughts on the matter would be appreciated!


	3. Sickness

Sebastian attempted to busy himself with every chore that needed to be done in the large manor. He planned to give the servants a day off to make up for doing all of their work for them. After all, it would make it easier to keep them away from the young master if they had a delicious cake to keep them preoccupied. Though he hated to admit it, the demon was incredibly concerned about the wellbeing of his master.

Last night had honestly taken him surprise—the nightmare, an entity that hadn't occurred in years, was entirely unwarranted. Something about seeing the earl still so trapped in his tragic past bothered Sebastian. It disturbed him enough to make him actually embrace the child, who was begging to die. Though the demon was starving, and his master's soul was one he desired more than anything, taking the object of his fixation was unbearable to him, especially when the child was displaying such fragility. As much as Sebastian wanted to brush it off as longing for a more seasoned soul, the theory truly didn't sit well in his over-calculating mind. After being at the side of a child who laughed instead of cried and frowned instead of smiled for such a long time, the butler had to admit to having grown fond of the impossible boy he served.

Ciel Phantomhive had made Sebastian into one hell of a butler—a title he proudly flaunted at any comment in regard to his impossible skill. In turn, the demon made the helpless, broken boy from the bloody altar into the Earl Phantomhive, worthy of serving as the Queen's guard dog. Doing so meant becoming a type of surrogate father to the child, he supposed. While it was very important that Sebastian was able to provide everything for his master, Ciel Phantomhive was the only one who actually gave him reason to act somewhat human. The pair who lived in the Phantomhive mansion owed who they were today to each other. That kind of bond was special; it was something Sebastian had never experienced in his entire life as a demon.

Now, as he made preparations for the breakfast he knew wouldn't be touched, his brow was unusually furrowed in worry. Any expression other than his sure smile was strange to the demon. He absently wondered how his young master would react to such a demeanor, but brushed the thought away. There were much more urgent matters that required his attention. His master hadn't returned from his walk in the courtyard, though nearly forty-five minutes had passed. The only thing preventing Sebastian from checking on the boy was the desperation he had seen in his eyes while dressing his young lord. Ciel wanted to be away from everything—as a butler, it was Sebastian's responsibility to keep his master relatively content and safe.

But, he also knew that Ciel Phantomhive's mind was already unhealthy, and regretted his decision. He had plundered as a butler. Sebastian was at ill liberty to let that child go anywhere without him, considering the events that had taken place.

Just last night, the young boy was begging to be not only killed, but thrown into the depths of Hell early. Sebastian supposed he could consider such a request suicidal, but he had foolishly believed that he had soothed Ciel's concerns last night as he comforted him with his uncharacteristically kind words. When the earl had awoken from his sleep, the deadness that could be found in his eyes roughly four years ago had returned. The child was still suffering from his trauma, a detail that had somehow gotten past his flawless, demon butler.

The butler didn't know what his master dreamt of—perhaps the fire that had stolen his family, or the cult who stripped him of his dignity? Or perhaps it was even the horrors he had lived through while in Sebastian's company. He remembered Ciel's reaction to the monstrosities committed by Kelvin. The scene was all too familiar to the demon, who bathed in the blood of such people as the baron. Sebastian couldn't imagine Ciel being immune, seeing as he had a trauma so closely related to the events that unfolded. That occurrence could have had some sort of impact on the nightmares' return.

Sebastian shook his head as he leaned down to put more wood in the hearth, condescending to the very human action in an attempt to order his scattered thoughts. He narrowed his eyes as he glanced down at his pocket watch. Nearly an hour had passed since he had last seen his master, and temperatures were dropping quickly. Straightening, Sebastian prepared to go against his master's orders and make sure that no horrible fate had befallen the boy.

"Young master!" Sebastian called, attempting to make out the small figure of his young lord amidst the blizzard conditions. The wind whipped around him viciously, tossing his contrastingly dark hair to and fro. "Young master, where are you?"

The demon internally berated himself, realizing how irresponsible he had been to allow a child—a sickly one, at that—out into the freezing weather for so long. Why hadn't he come searching? Following orders meant nothing if the master giving them died. The relapse that had occurred at the Circus still affected his young master, and being out in this weather could easily cause a repeat. This much was obvious when Ciel had been plagued with a similar illness after his experience after the Campania had sunk.

"Young master, if you are conscious, please answer me," the butler frantically yelled into the howling wind. Usually, Sebastian could just appear at his master's side—but without orders, he was helpless, forced to seek out his young master as any human would. He cursed the incredibly large courtyard that could hide such a fragile child anywhere. If he didn't find his young master quickly. . . No, he couldn't think like that. He was a butler of the Phantomhive manor; doubt was not in his list of adopted emotions.

Sebastian sprinted to where the child had exited his manor, sighing deeply when he found all traces of the boy's footprints washed away by the wind and snow. Even the scent of Ciel had been entirely muffled, giving his butler no way to track his movements. Was this how helpless all humans felt?

"My young master," he whispered, spinning around once more and scanning his surroundings. "Forgive me."

Sharp eyes suddenly glimpsed an inconsistency in the pure, disparaging white besieging him. A hopeful smile brought Sebastian's lips up as he realized that an evergreen had protected this crucial evidence from being buried in the snow. His young master's jacket lay crumpled on the grass, only dusted by the snow that had fallen on it before Ciel had taken it off. The encouraged expression fled his face as he suddenly realized the implications. Sebastian had taken much care to dress his young master warmly; now, he had been outside for over and hour without anything to keep him warm. What was his troublesome lord _thinking? _

The butler snatched the jacket up from the ground, knowing he would need something to keep Ciel warm when he found him. Though the paths in the courtyard were many, Sebastian took the one least traveled by his young lord. He hoped that the child had attempted to be evasive in his fragile mind state and acted in correlation with this suspicion. He walked briskly down the path, fearing that if he went too fast, he would miss the possibly unconscious earl.

Suddenly, an irregular lump in the velvety snow made its way into Sebastian's vision. The demon's scarlet eyes widened as he realized that there, under several inches of snow, was his young master. Black-swathed knees smashed to the cold ground as he kneeled beside the white bulge on the ground. He smoothly scooped the shuddering body close to his chest, cradling the boy with one arm under his knees and the other supporting his back. A gentle thumb brushed the icy snow from his equally frigid face. Sebastian held his ear up to the boy's slightly-open mouth, the tension in his body relaxing slightly as he felt the puff of warm breath against his skin. His eyes narrowed, however, when he heard a viscous wheezing inhibiting Ciel's breathing. The butler rubbed soothing circles on his master's back, hoping to relieve some of his asthmatic symptoms.

Sebastian wrapped the child in his jacket as he walked back to the house, careful not to jostle the boy whose life was in jeopardy due to his own mistake. He was shivering violently despite his unconsciousness, and the snow crusted into his clothes did nothing to help regain his body heat. As he appraised the boy's face, his concern only increased. His left cheek was severely darkened compared to the sickly white of the other skin, most likely bruised from the fall he undoubtedly suffered. Blood had frozen onto his face, trickling from a deep gash inflicted, the ground having easily split open his thin, nearly translucent skin. Dark eyelashes were frosted over, and tear tracks had frozen on his face. Vaguely, the butler wondered whether or not they had been a symptom of the evident asthma attack that had taken place, or if Ciel had just succumbed to his potent emotions. After four years, Sebastian found the latter of the possibilities to be less likely.

Once inside the warm house, Sebastian rushed the boy up to his room, thankful that he had just put more firewood in the personal hearth. The clothes the earl was dressed in were soaked now that the snow had melted, so Sebastian made a quick business of changing him into the warmest nightclothes he had. He brushed through the child's soggy hair, ridding it of any surviving ice. Then, he toweled it dry quickly so Ciel wouldn't become chilled. He was undoubtedly suffering from moderate hypothermia, which could be deadly if the proper care was not administered. The paleness of the child was frightening, resembling the deathly pallor of the numerous corpses Sebastian had witnessed.

Within three minutes, the young master was tucked safely in his bed, swathed in countless down quilts. He was still shivering slightly, but some of the color had returned to his cheeks. Beneath the surface of his clammy flesh, Ciel was burning with an incredible fever rivaling the one at the Circus. His breathing was still horribly labored despite his more friendly surroundings, and the young earl was submitted to frequent, lengthy coughing fits within his personal oblivion.

After ensuring the temporary stability of his young master, Sebastian made a quick business of instructing the servants on their duties for the day. They were to leave the young master alone and attend to the rest of the house without his aid. In response to their surprise, the butler explained Ciel's grave health complications and how he would have to remain by the child's side if he were to recover as quickly as possible. He could not bring himself to tell them of his own personal responsibility; Sebastian could hardly acknowledge his failure himself.

"Mey-rin, Bardroy, Finnian—I am begging you," the crimson-eyed butler, who was unable to retain his frightening demeanor, said softly, "don't give me any reason to leave the young master's side. I already made meal preparations for the entire day, and I cleaned the mansion. Enjoy your day off unless something _must _be attended to."

Finnian and Mey-rin looked close to tears, but Bardroy, who seemed just as shocked at the fearsome butler's plea, spoke for the three of them. "We got it, Sebastian."

"Yeah," Finnian piped up, fiercely rubbing at his dewy, turquoise eyes. "We won't disappoint you!"

"Yes, sir!" Mey-rin added.

"Thank you, all of you." Sebastian smiled wanly, anxious to return to his master's side. "I will take my leave."

Though he had no need to rest, the demon pulled up a chair close to the earl's bed, watching the boy unblinkingly. Deep within nothingness, the ailed child before him had no idea how truly troublesome he was.

* * *

_Ciel rose from his bed, the frigid feeling with which he had fallen into his deep slumber gone. A bothersome awareness in the back of his mind was somewhat surprised at the illogicality of his condition, pristine as it was, but the dark-haired child ignored it. Still in his nightclothes, the British nobleman sauntered over to the shades, their drawn condition retaining the room's darkness. Hesitant, white hands gripped the heavy fabric and pulled them apart slowly. _

_ The sight that met the earl's eyes sent him stumbling backward, his mouth agape in a silent scream._

_ Blood, viscous and sluggishly flowing, surrounded his mansion. It inundated the fountains, the stone stained black by the dried liquid. Ciel noticed corpses floating in the quantities of the substance, the currents of the scarlet river tugging at their saturated clothing. The young boy refused to look at the faces, fearing those whom he thought he'd recognize. _

_ "Young master?" A voice sounded behind him. Ciel turned to locate the speaker, his eyes widened in horror. _

_ "Sebastian?" he whispered, terror softening his voice unbearably. "Where am I?"_

_ "We are in your mansion, my lord. What seems to be bothering you?" _

_ Sebastian's smirk frightened the Phantomhive heir. He didn't bother in hiding his menacingly sharp teeth or his slit pupils within fuchsia irises. A certain hunger was present in his eyes—an expression that had faded after six months of living with the demon. What was wrong with his butler? _

_ "D-don't you see it?" Ciel stammered, pointing to the window. _

_ "Yes, my lord." A ravenous tongue flicked over smiling lips. "I decorated the mansion nicely, didn't I? Is it not to your liking?" _

_ "No, it most certainly is not!" Bare feet stumbled backward, causing the earl's back to smash into his drawing table. "What is the meaning of this, Sebastian?" _

_ "Don't you see? I figured this was the perfect setting for your end, my lord." _

_ "My end?" _

_ "Yes. You did order me to break the contract early, my lord?" _

_ "I thought you didn't want. . ."_

_ "I have changed my mind, my lord. Now, please, take a seat. I can't say that this will be pleasant for you." _

_ "No, Sebastian—don't!" Ciel frantically backed away from the advancing demon, panting with fear. "This is an order—leave me alone, and turn the mansion back to normal!" _

_ "I'm sorry, my lord. My orders have already been given." _

_ Suddenly, the boy's chin was in the crushing grip of his butler's. The demon's fingers had no gloves to hide the black nails or the glowing Faustian Contract Seal. His eyes showed none of the humanity that had begun to harvest after four years of pretending. Ciel found himself frozen with fear, unable to fight as the demon leaned close, widely smiling lips parted in deadly anticipation. _

Ciel awoke suddenly, covered in a thin film of cold sweat. His small chest heaved with heavy breaths, the cloying feeling in his chest only adding to his sense of claustrophobia. The first thing that registered in the young boy's mind was that he could not move. He was surrounded on all sides by plush blankets, cocooning him tightly. The curtains were drawn, but the earl could see daylight peering from behind the material. He remembered the sight they concealed within his dream and shuddered at the memory before pushing it away firmly. His flesh was also burning with a fever, his bangs sticking to his damp forehead. Ciel's throat was raw from what he supposed was coughing, and his nose was beginning to run in addition to its stuffiness.

"Ah, young master, you are finally awake."

The voice was too loud, resonating painfully in Ciel's skull. The young Phantomhive turned his head slowly in the direction the voice had come from, unwelcomingly reminded of his fever-driven nightmare. Surely enough, Sebastian stood in the doorway, bearing a tray on his left arm. Ciel noted, as he licked his dry lips, that a pitcher of ice water was among the items on the fine silver tray. His butler evidently noticed the object of his fixation, for he smiled obligingly and quickly poured the sweet liquid into a cup after setting down his burden.

However, when Sebastian approached him to help him drink the water, Ciel couldn't help but flinch violently back into his pillows, the image of his butler's worried face replaced with the starving, predatory one from his dream. Ordinarily, he would have slapped the hand away, but his arms were too intricately entwined in sheets and blankets. Though, he supposed as he quickly lost focus, Sebastian did not deserve the mess that would have been created by such an action.

"Young master?" Sebastian questioned, his deep voice bringing the ashen-haired boy back to the matter at hand. To Ciel's greatest relief, the demon wasn't smiling, like in his nightmare. "What seems to be troubling you?"

The Earl Phantomhive could not bring himself to tell his butler why he had flinched away from the only touch he had unconditionally permitted since the day he emerged from his captivity. Come to think of it, he actually couldn't even remember why. Ciel rolled his eyes at his own incompetency. Then, he looked up somberly at the dark male, blinking slowly. His vision spun slightly with each motion, but Ciel ignored it. Little stars burst in the corners of his vision, teasing him to follow them with his eyes. After doing so and finding nothing, the frustrated earl abandoned the cause, huffing loudly.

"It's hot, Sebastian," Ciel complained, wriggling in his blankets. "I'm hot."

"I know, my lord. But you were greatly chilled by your exposure to the weather. You may undergo deterioration in your condition if we let your environment's temperature drop below your body's. Please, young master, endure it for a while longer so you can recover."

"You weren't supposed to find me, you know." Ciel looked down so that he could see his nose, red and irritated with illness. "Why did you come looking for me, Sebastian?"

"What a silly question," Sebastian said softly. The boy looked up to see concern flaring in red eyes despite his careful attempts to keep them neutral. "I would die before letting you perish, my lord. Now, please. Drink some water. With the fever you are burning, you need as many liquids in you as possible."

This time, the demon was met with no resistance as he leant in to pour the contents of the cup into Ciel's mouth. Suddenly, the boy was focused on how closely Sebastian's features resembled his father's. He didn't seem like the fearsome demon his dreams created, nor did he assume the usual, unreadable persona. Instead, a kind, fatherly figure was left amidst the two. The child drank the cold water greedily, relishing the soothing feeling on his sore throat as he owlishly gazed at Sebastian. The glass was empty too quickly, and he swiftly demanded more, draining four fills of the ravishing beverage.

Ciel yawned tiredly as he laid back in bed, eyelids sliding closed. The water effectively cooled him so that the warmth of the blankets was no longer asphyxiating like before. He felt a pleasantly chilled substance at his forehead as he felt himself beginning to drift off. Heavy eyes opened to see Sebastian sponging his sweaty face gently, temporarily removing the taint of sickness from it. Crimson eyes met his own and softened as they sensed the gaze, and a strange, alien smile crept onto the stoic demon's features. The boy's head spun as he struggled to focus through the haze of sleep, but he managed to smile at the man fawning over him.

"That's nice . . ." he sighed contentedly, his vision fixating on the dually familiar features as his mind spun confusedly. His eyes gave into the growing heaviness in them, closing lethargically. ". . . Father."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Here you guys go—another chapter of the fic. I'm trying to develop a certain bond between Ciel and Sebastian. Right now, our favorite little earl is delirious with a fever. He doesn't really know what's going on. He's scared, he feels horrible, and the only thing that really registers with him is that comfort equals his parents. So, looking up at Sebastian, who so closely resembles his father, he mistakes him as such. I hope you guys don't find this too unrealistic. Do you all have any suggestions on how to have Sebastian react to Ciel's little slip while keeping him in character? I appreciate feedback more than you know.


	4. Memories

Sebastian straightened suddenly as if struck by vehement lightning, his widened, crimson eyes staring at his young master. Ciel's words were soft, hardly louder than the ruffle of wind on a raven's wings—but Sebastian had heard it well enough.

That sickly—most likely delirious—boy lying there burning with a fever had addressed him as his father.

The child in question squirmed slightly when the soothing, cool cloth disappeared from his face, whimpering in displeasure. Despite his complete astonishment, the demon continued to sponge his young lord's face and was quickly rewarded with a contented sigh from the earl. His cheeks were still flushed from the fever raging in his veins, and his breathing had not improved at all. Evidently, the child would be bedridden for a longer time than before. It was to be expected, considering that this ailment was the third to befall him recently. The situations his master had been thrust into recently seemed to cause his formerly recovered asthma to become prominent in the nobleman's life once again.

As his young master's breathing deepened and he fell more soundly into unconsciousness, Sebastian took his hand away from the boy's face. He looked utterly defenseless right then—more like a child than Sebastian had ever seen him. Vaguely, he remembered the ten-year-old who earnestly told him how honey caused cavities if consumed before bed and smiled. Back then, they were in a setup very close to this one, with Sebastian by a broken and battered child's beside. With even more coincidence, Ciel's cheek again was bandaged, a splotch of white paler than even his young master's snow-kissed skin.

However, diversely between the two occurrences was the element that was not aesthetic or tangible. The moments shared all those years ago compared to now differed in the relationship between the two parties involved. Sebastian, quite frankly, was irritated by the impossible child who had summoned him back then. Now, he watched the small boy peacefully sleeping with an emotion akin to fondness, as far as such a feeling could go when experienced by a demon.

For the majority of their time together, Sebastian had merely thought that Ciel viewed him as a tool, although he was an incredibly kind master compared to others he had served. The occurrence on the Campania, however, had given him reason to reconsider this assumption about the boy who had grown so reliant on him. The young Phantomhive had defended his servant, though the butler in question had blundered and ended up becoming impaled by a reaper's death scythe. He had even _complimented _his pitch black butler as he kneeled there, attempting to cope with the ghastly wound inflicted. Perhaps the experience of thinking the butler on whom he relied completely had perished gave the proud earl reason to appreciate that which he had. Sebastian shook the thought away with a smile, internally reprimanding himself for such a callous thought concerning his young master. He knew that Ciel appreciated him and his other servants—the most the incident could have caused was a renewed and strengthened sense of this sentiment.

Sebastian sat in a chair beside his young master's bed, suddenly feeling mentally fatigued. His scant emotions had been tried the entire time he had been with this boy insofar. Such a thing had not been accounted for by the demon, who thought becoming emotionally detached to his meal was impossible for someone—something—who had been in this trade for so long. His eyes closed, and Sebastian hoped he could catch a few minutes of luxurious sleep before his young master awoke, delirious with fever. But his mind, whirring busily at the young Phantomhive's words to him, was not in sympathy with his desires.

He understood Ciel's mindset, he truly did. Despite hating cats, his young lord was more like them than he realized. If one attempts to get too close without any reasonable cause, they would get scratched. But if one feeds a cat and takes care of it, eventually, they will allow a fond display of coddling. The child lying bedridden was exactly the same way. Sebastian believed that, despite all of Ciel's attempts to keep him distant, he had broken through the boy's decidedly feline defense mechanism. Though part of Ciel probably thought that Sebastian's smiles, his touches, and his concern were all demonically fake, not even an earl who appeared so cold and distant could resist the psychological effects.

For four years, Ciel had been taken care of by his diligent butler. At first, the demon had regarded the child as a human would an edible delicacy—but posing as a father figure and pretending to care had become less and less of an act as the years, mere seconds to Sebastian, passed by. He wouldn't be capable of discerning when the change had occurred. However, the demon knew that, somewhere along this journey, he went from being concerned about his dinner's edibility to worrying about the wellbeing of the boy in general. He nurtured him when he was ailed and protected him in his arms, even with the imminent—though uncommon—threat of death looming over him. He started to become concerned when his master seemed slightly preoccupied, which manifested particularly obviously after the incident with Baron Kelvin. The way Sebastian had kept his eyes on Ciel as he saw how dull and lifeless he had been didn't escape his own notice. The entire time, the demon had just wanted to get his young master away from all of the stimuli in his manor. Though such an experience hadn't been detrimental to his young master's health, Sebastian had found himself increasingly concerned about him. It wasn't a conscious emotion he forced himself to feel—it was instinctive.

This was not to say that he didn't look forward to consuming the soul promised by their contract. To the starving demon, such a meal would be a delicacy entirely unknown to him in the duration of his long life. But his admission to his young master about how he wouldn't mind remaining with him was not entirely a fallacy, either. This life was pleasing, despite having no dinner accommodations. He had a lovely face, an interesting human, and people who were rendered entirely awestricken at his inhuman abilities. Also, he had to appreciate that Earth had so much more to offer than Hell. The colors, the smells—they were all fantastic. No, he did not plan on going back to that inferno any time soon, and the Earl Ciel Phantomhive had proven to be more than suitable entertainment and distraction for a demon like himself.

Though, in truth, he could not say that Ciel was merely a distraction. No, a demon who was ordered not to lie could not say that.

It had been a while since Sebastian had spent so long acting as a human _among _humans. He was reminded of the times when he wasn't pretending or putting on a brilliant façade—when he was one of them.

Sebastian had had a different face, a different name, and a different personality back then. He had once been a young child, unwanted by the family he was born to, as his name—Cassius, he thought it was—suggested. After all, in a time where Rome was falling and eternal fires were burning, very little could be given to provide for another child. This sentiment was often expressed as resentment and bitterness, which manifested into physical violence that left a broken boy sobbing. Sometimes, as he fought for his life against the pain aching everywhere at once, he wondered if his father and mother would like him a bit more if he submitted to the tantalizing darkness and died. From the beginning of his pathetic human life, the boy grudgingly christened Cassius merely wanted to be loved and appreciated, not despised for his existence borne by the passion and lust he learned all humans possessed.

But his attempts to make his parents just slightly fond of him were futile. His only comfort was the God to whom his parents prayed devoutly, but eventually, he too lost faith in a being who was so cruel to let a child suffer as he was. He went to church to appease his parents—even if it did nothing to get into their favor—and pretended to pray to the supposedly all-forgiving God. He endured the lectures about the benevolence of the divine being, but at times, he could not keep his tears from falling into the wine he was offered in commemoration of Jesus. As he heard the tales of that particular man's love, Cassius could only despair silently. He could only think of how utterly phantasmagorical it would be to have someone love him so much—and how unfeasible such a thing seemed.

Though he never cared much to remember the passing of years that marked the time he had lived on Earth, Cassius had known that he was at least over ten years old. His brother whose life was cherished by his mother and father had celebrated a decade of life, so the young boy discarded and despised by is family must have been at least that old. However, no age could have prepared him for the fate his father decided for him. The sense of foreboding had been correct when he had been taken into a dark wood he had never seen before—yet, he had ignored it, foolishly placated by the uncharacteristically sweet words of the man who loathed him.

It was the man's decision that resulted in his son's meeting with a pale woman with long, golden hair and indigo eyes, both strange to the Roman boy who was only familiar with the dark coloring of his people. Once again, his instincts had screamed at him to flee from her, but Cassius had found himself transfixed by her warm smile—her warm embrace. Within moments, he informed her of his deepest desire, the tragic waterfall of his tears falling down his cheeks. By then, he was inconsolable. He merely nodded to all the warnings the beautiful woman offered, which made her soft smile widen into a malignant grin, unseen to the broken boy in her arms. The demon, he soon found out, was true to her word—in every sense.

Sebastian's eyes flew open, breaking him free of the dream fueled by musings gone astray. He found himself breathing heavily, as if running long distances had begun to affect him again. Years upon years had passed since he last reflected upon his past before becoming a demon. _Perhaps,_ he thought in slight panic, _the young master's_ _vulnerability brought those memories back. _Sebastian looked down at the child, still sleeping fitfully. He whimpered occasionally, tossing his head to and fro. With his mind half human and half demon, the butler could only remember feeling so ailed when he was sick and had no one to tend to him. A pale hand caressed Ciel's sweat-sodden forehead as it attempted to ease the disturbed sleep to which his master was victim.

"Sleep, Ciel," he whispered softly. "I will not allow you to be harmed."

The ashen-haired child sighed deeply, settling decidedly into a more comfortable slumber. A small, pink tongue darted out to wet cracked lips, and Sebastian was quick to pour water into the parched mouth. The demon was alarmed at the rate the fever was burning through Ciel's hydration, but he was more than happy to keep the child's supply in surplus.

The butler rose from his chair to wander aimlessly toward the window. The snow was still falling, and several inches had accumulated. His eyes automatically flickered back to the fevered boy whose fragile physique was swallowed by his large bed. Despite the concern softening the burgundy depths, black brows were drawn down over his eyes in frustration. He had never expected to become this attached to his charge. Four years ago, Sebastian would've laughed at any seer who foretold this outcome. Now, his past self would be laughing at _him, _wondering how he could shame himself in such an unsightly way.

The demon knew that this child's soul would be a feast like none other; but part of him—a more dominant part—could only yearn to let that infuriating boy live his natural lifespan before devouring his soul and landing him in the fiery pit he reluctantly called home. He rested his forehead against the chilled glass panes of the window, realizing that even his sense of temperature had changed since emerging from Hell.

"Sebastian?" a weak voice called from behind him, rousing him from his dark thoughts.

"Yes, young master?" the demon responded, regaining his composure in an instant as he returned to the child's side. From the concerned flicker in the blue eyes beleaguered by illness, the butler gauged that Ciel had been watching him for a while before addressing him.

"You seem tired," the child commented, his voice dreadfully feeble and grating in his throat.

"I cannot tire, my lord," Sebastian responded with a smile, skillfully evading the statement's true intent. "Either way, I must recommend being concerned for yourself rather than a lowly servant."

The Phantomhive snorted with derision, but the action triggered a bout of coughing. As the boy recovered with some water offered by his butler, he said, "Is that truly the position I've condemned you to in this household, Sebastian?"

"Young master, it is no condemnation. It is mere fact."

"After everything, you must realize you are much more than that. Don't be stupid."

Sebastian carefully appraised his young lord, red eyes narrowed. He saw the feverish blush still staining his porcelain cheeks and grasped that these were—at least somewhat—the words of the illness. With that in mind, the demon merely smiled softly and tucked the blankets more securely around the tiny form of his master.

But Sebastian realized that, though he was delirious with a high temperature, Ciel was being much more honest with his emotions in this state. It was underhanded, but a demon could not help but take advantage of the hand he was dealt, and Sebastian was no exception. There was always the risk of the young earl remembering and hiding his embarrassment with anger, but he had faced the child's wrath before. He didn't _want _Ciel to be angry with him, but sacrifice was sometimes necessary.

"Is that why you addressed me as 'Father' before, my lord?" Sebastian asked nonchalantly, giving the young earl more water.

Ciel blinked lethargically, seeming to have difficulty comprehending his butler's inquiry with his mind clouded by the sickness. After a minute, he slowly nodded, perfect white teeth worrying his lip. "But you look just like him, too—my father. . ."

"Yes, I did so to make you more comfortable with me, young master. Does it bother you?"

"No," Ciel sighed, "it's like he's still here. It's like I'm not all alone."

"Do you feel alone at times, my lord?"

"Yes. But only when you're not around."

Sebastian's eyes widened slightly; he was entirely touched by the child's admission. "May I sit with you, young master?" he asked, unsure whether or not Ciel wanted him closer. His inquisition was quelled when the boy nodded slightly, a movement that could hardly be registered by the human eye. The butler smiled his thanks before taking a seat by his little lord, who moved over to accommodate his space with difficulty.

"You find yourself comforted by my presence?" Sebastian asked as he absently changed the cold cloth draped over Ciel's forehead, his body leaning over the younger's.

The dark-haired boy nodded again, gaze dropping in what appeared to be embarrassment. The butler was quick to react, two fingers hooking under the delicate chin and gently lifting his face up.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, Ciel." He pronounced the name—unfamiliar on his tongue—carefully, realizing the weight of using such a title. Surprisingly, the younger didn't even react to hearing his given name. "Even you, the Earl Phantomhive, are not infallible."

"I know," Ciel responded, pulling his jaw from Sebastian's grip. The movement caused him to wince, but he continued, "But how foolish I am to come to care for what will be my demise."

Sebastian smiled softly, sadly. "I know that the cards have played in a way that is unfavorable to you. I must say—with all the sincerity I can muster as a demon—how sorry I am that you are the victim of such an unfair game."

"So," Ciel, mismatched eyes downcast, said quietly, "you really were just trying to comfort me when you said you would remain with me until the end of my life."

"I wish I could say that that were the case." The butler squeezed his eyes shut. If the other weren't so intimately acquainted with the truth of this man's identity, he would assume that he was praying.

"What?" The boy reached a frail hand from underneath the covers to grip the cuff of his butler's jacket. The demon's palms sveltely slipped around the younger's hand so it was cradled in the cage of his white fingers. Even through the fabric, Sebastian could feel the fever raging within Ciel's veins. The touch brought him back to his senses, realizing that he was taking advantage of a child he was ordered to protect plagued by serious illness. The butler suddenly had the humility to feel ashamed and rose from his seat on the bed.

"Forget what I have said, my lord. My words were out of place, coming from a servant. Please, forgive me for disturbing your rest with such petty talk." The black-clad man bowed deeply, his hair swinging in front of his face to hide his eyes. Even in illness, Ciel would be too observant to miss any stray emotions lingering in their depths.

"Nonsense," Ciel responded sleepily, eyes fluttering rebelliously against their owner's wishes. "You needn't apologize for being honest with me, Sebastian. Surely, you know that."

The demon nearly smirked at his master's words, clearly remembering the times where the child's temper had boiled over due to the frankness of his tongue. But Sebastian wasn't being entirely fair. The Earl Phantomhive was largely kinder and more open-minded compared to other men of his standing. It was something Sebastian appreciated more than anything else in his current master. Though he required no luxuries like a bed to sleep in or days off as a nonhuman being, Ciel granted him them without a thought. This concept was merely second nature to the child, whose parents taught him etiquette from the moment he could comprehend.

The young Phantomhive in question beckoned him to his bedside with a lethargic finger, half-closed eyes focusing on him with difficulty. "I know that I am being silly," he began in a voice that sounded very far away, "but I wish for you to remain with me. The nightmares don't seem to haunt when you are at my side, Sebastian."

"Yes, my lord. It would be my honor."

"Also. . . ." Ciel's eyes finally managed to meet his and narrowed at the sight before them. "You needn't tell me the meaning of your words before, yet. I know that you're as puzzled by them as I am. I can't say I'm not enjoying you struggle with something for once."

Sebastian's smirk mirrored his master's as he retook his seat next to the child's tiny form. "I'm happy to be of service to my lord. I would be appalled if you didn't enjoy the show."

But the child's eyes were already closed, thick, black lashes kissing the pallor of his skin. His face was entirely relaxed, the sardonic smile gone from his features. Sebastian found himself wishing to see his master's face like this more often. Even in sleep, the boy's eyebrows were usually furrowed in subconscious agitation, a habit that would cause untimely creases in his perfect, unmarred skin, were he to grow old enough.

_And whether or not he does is my decision._

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, so, I hope Sebastian's reaction wasn't too unrealistic. He's a demon, but I feel like this indecision and random conflicting feelings attacking him are really upsetting him. He's remembering stuff he's suppressed and suddenly, he remembers what it's like to be human.

What are your thoughts on a human Sebastian? Yay, or nay?


	5. Recuperation

"Sebastian, I assure you, I am fine. I don't have a fever and I'm not wheezing at all! Let me get out of bed!"

"I cannot permit that, my lord. You have been grievously ill for several days. I would be acting inappropriately if I allowed you to walk around freely."

"I am your master, and I order you to—" Ciel was caught off before he could finish his command, the butler's hand clapping over his mouth swiftly. He resisted the juvenile urge to bite the hand, unable to deny that he did so more out of knowing its futility than its childishness

"Are you ready to behave like a good patient?" Sebastian inquired with a smug smirk on his features. The child glared up at him, fingers reaching up to pry at the iron ones wrapped around his mouth to no avail. It seemed the butler would only relent if Ciel did, and, despite his pride, he knew the demon could outlast him. He angled his chin down in a curt motion to indicate that he would cooperate with his fussing demon. The mother hen in question removed his hand, his grin widening. The dark-haired man soon placed a steaming cup of tea in his hands, the irresistible aroma nearly making the Phantomhive forget his irritation.

"That wasn't too difficult, now, was it, young master?"

Ciel grumbled unintelligibly as he sipped his tea.

"Even when you are ill, you won't allow me to take care of you. What a strange child you are, my lord."

"You've taken care of me plenty these past few days," the younger ground out.

"Yes, but you were too fevered to actually appreciate my efforts."

"And too fevered to feed myself, which you took advantage of quickly."

"You'd never allow me to fuss otherwise, nor appreciate it."

"Stop being ridiculous. I would have died without your care, of course I appreciate you."

Sebastian stiffened for a moment, and Ciel internally reprimanded himself. Had he really _just _let another truth about his feelings toward the butler slip out when he was trying to hard to be curt with him? How could he be more careless in these past few days than he had in his entire life? For a master at playing games, he had to say that his performance was incredibly pathetic.

"Young master, you are too kind," the butler said dismissively, seeming to note his sudden discomfort. "I merely acted as was appropriate."

"You say I was suffering from hypothermia," Ciel said, a new goal suddenly present in his mind. "What would you've done if I died?"

"That would not have happened, my lord." Sebastian's voice offered no change, but his crimson eyes told differently. They had darkened at the child's words, as if cast in the shadow of a crow's wing. It seemed he had struck a nerve in his servant, which interested the child.

"Even you can't bring a human back from the dead." Ciel watched his butler carefully. "Severe illness, infections—those are all out of your hands. What would you do if I was afflicted with that?"

"My little lord, please, don't ask such things." A weak smile failed to hide the pained expression that drew the butler's face taut. "I will do everything in my power to keep you alive—I will take any number of bullets and endure every and all attacks aimed at you."

"Except one conducted by you."

The demon took a moment to respond, the emotions flitting through his crimson eyes disappearing quickly, the pained expression replaced by a rather apathetic one. Ciel resisted the urge to break eye contact, uncomfortable with the cold appraising to which his butler was currently subjecting him. He realized his mistake as he read Sebastian's sudden change in his mannerisms, and wished that he had never conducted this little experiment. The butler was evidently displeased with him, which the child felt fairly guilty for causing.

"Where is all this bitterness coming from? You _knew _what you were getting into when you made a contract with me. Why do you act so resentful? I have done nothing but serve and protect you. I have become a lowly servant and condescended to take orders from you, a mere child. Why do you feel the need to feign a sense of grievance when all that will befall you is your need to keep your end of our bargain? Do you truly think that I, a one thousand-year-old demon, would do this out of the goodness of my nonexistent heart? I had no idea you were so naïve, _young _master."

The demon let out a short, bitter laugh as Ciel gaped at him, no words falling upon his ordinarily sharp tongue. "My kind thirsts for only one thing—not companionship, nor love. That delightful thing encompassed in every single human in existence is what we desire more than anything. And you, my little lord, have the most mouthwatering soul I have ever encountered."

"Sebastian. . . ." Ciel turned away from his butler, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. The demon's words managed to answer every question that had been buzzing in his head for a week. Sebastian Michaelis didn't care for the container of his precious soul, Earl Ciel Phantomhive. He didn't want to be bound to him for the rest of his life. He wanted to fulfill their contract and devour the soul he so desired.

What rent the child so harshly in these epiphanies was how much he realized he wanted—lusted for—the demon to actually care. There was not one person who cared about Ciel—not the real him, anyway. Everyone saw in him the epitome of a perfect nobleman, a child grown into an adult early. Only Sebastian had seen his raw pain that still tore at him incessantly despite his layer upon layer of cool indifference. Only his faithful servant saw the destroyed, battered frame of mind hiding behind his supposed sanity.

"A demon who cared for anything more than their next meal would be the center of ridicule."

"Enough! I have heard enough of your insolence, Sebastian. You are my servant, and you will treat me with the respect I—"

Sebastian's hand took his face in a large, gloved palm, promptly silencing the young earl. "For that reason, it is unfortunate that I am a demon such as that."

"Wha—"

Sebastian's chin suddenly whipped to the side, black hair flopping wildly and his scarlet eyes focusing on the window. Ciel's gaze followed his butler's just in time to see a carriage driving toward the front of his manor. The two looked at each other with mutual expressions of dread. Simultaneously, they said, "Elizabeth."

* * *

"Oh, Ciel, you look so pitiful!"

The young earl in question had the strong urge to cover his ears as their throbbing was renewed by his fiancée's high-pitched voice. His cobalt gaze drifted to rest on his butler, who hid a smirk behind a strategically placed forefinger. His eyes narrowed slightly in wrath, cursing the butler for refusing to dress him even when his fiancée had spontaneously arrived at the mansion. Who was he to tell his master when he could and couldn't dress, anyway? By the time he removed himself from the fiery irritation the argument wrought and realized he could just order the infuriating demon to dress him, he had hardly enough time to tie his eye patch behind his head.

"Lizzie, I'm perfectly fine. Sebastian merely insists upon keeping me in bed. He fears another relapse will occur if I don't rest. That's all."

"Well, he's right!" Elizabeth responded impertinently, turning her nose up in the air. "You must take better care of yourself, Ciel."

"Don't worry about my welfare, Lizzie, you know better than that. I shall survive, just as I always have."

The blonde girl sat in a chair by his bedside, taking his hand in hers. Ciel didn't like the contact, especially with all the instability plaguing him recently. The only person he fully trusted to touch him was Sebastian, the creature he viewed as his savior despite his ungrateful words. He cared about his childhood friend and fiancée dearly—but that didn't mean that he wanted her touching him. _That month _had caused him to feel incredibly paranoid every time someone laid their hands on him since his return. With time, he had been able to get over this trepidation, but after nearly committing suicide—yes, despite his pride, he knew the true intention behind that expedition into the snow—and inviting the horrific nightmares fevers always brought, the apprehension had returned. But Lizzie, who was entirely uneducated if not oblivious to his trauma, could not see this little fact. As long as she didn't look too closely into his singly visible eye, she wouldn't see the panic flickering deep within its depths. If she didn't pay particular attention, she wouldn't notice the slight tremor running through his hands. Ciel could control this situation. He had to.

"Was there any reason you came to see me today?" Ciel asked, attempting to strike up a casual conversation that would distract all of the girl's attention to keep her from noticing his evident volatility.

"Sebastian phoned and said you were ill," she said sadly, "so I just had to visit to make sure you were all right!"

"Lady Elizabeth, I always take good care of the young master, don't I?" Sebastian interjected smoothly. He bore a tray with two cups of tea and matching plates of sweets. Elizabeth quickly dropped Ciel's hand to take the proffered refreshments.

The earl breathed a silent sigh of relief, catching his butler's eye for a moment. The man smiled softly at him, putting a finger to his lips. _Shush. _Ciel felt a small smile break through his anxiety, indicating how touched he felt by Sebastian's gesture to keep him comfortable. He must have noticed his distress and come up with a solution, just as an elegant butler was expected to. But for a mischievous demon who was determined to see his master struggle a bit before swooping in to aid him, the action was unheard of. His butler really did pay acute attention to all of his needs—even emotional, among others.

"Yes, Sebastian," Elizabeth said fondly, nibbling on the cookies she so frequently complimented. "But last time, I had no idea he was bedridden. . . I didn't want to be clueless when Ciel was suffering."

"I'm certain the young master appreciates it." Sebastian put a hand over his heart, smiling pleasantly. "I fear he is slightly subdued. Despite his words, he is still rather ill, my lady. I hope you won't mind leaving him to rest in due time."

Sebastian looked to him with a raised eyebrow, clearly exhorting him to make his story more believable. He smirked at his dark-haired butler before collapsing into a coughing fit, a fist placed near his mouth to muffle the sound. The boy _did _feel much better, but his lungs were still weakened by the illness. Putting on a show such as this was easy, but he knew that the demon would use this against him to keep him in bed longer. Ciel shrugged the thought away, realizing that he really just wanted to be away from Lizzie and distanced from the persona he was always forced to adopt when around her and others who weren't his demonic butler. Right now, acting like he wasn't hurting so intensely just added to the pain—made it nearly physical.

"Oh!" Elizabeth reacted exactly as was expected, much to the master and servant's satisfaction. "You do sound rather sick, Ciel."

"Indeed, shall I pre—" Sebastian was abruptly cut off.

"But that's more of a reason that I should stay by your side! A good wife should always attend to her husband."

"Lizzie, that isn't necessary. Does Aunt Frances even know you've come here?"

"No. . ."

"There will be no point in taking care of me if I'm murdered shortly after."

"What the young master means is that he doesn't wish for his aunt to be cross with either of you," Sebastian cut in, sending a reproachful look in Ciel's direction over Elizabeth's head. The boy coolly stared back, though he knew it was inappropriate to be insulting his fiancée's mother while in her presence and that he deserved Sebastian's wordless reprimand. "Don't you think it would be wise to return before she notices your absence, my lady?"

"Oh, yes, you're right, Sebastian." Elizabeth smiled sorrowfully, all the joy gone from her emerald eyes. Ciel had the decency to feel guilty, but all such feelings were replaced by growing panic as his fiancée took his hands—both of them!—in hers.

"Lizzie?" He struggled to keep his voice from trembling. He so badly wanted to tell her to think before touching him so carelessly, but he knew that it would only lead to one of her notorious tantrums. Though, the cause of it _wouldn't _be so unreasonable. She was perfectly entitled to hold her fiancé's hands; as it was, many people did much more at their age.

"Goodbye, Ciel." The girl gazed at him with dewy eyes, jaw set in determination. "I'll come back when you're feeling better, and we can have fun together."

A smile would be appropriate, wouldn't it? But how could he smile when he was feeling so lost and afraid? His eye flickered over to look at Sebastian, who seemed to immediately realize his predicament—just as he always did. He offered him a reassuring smile, free of contempt and malicious humor at his situation. The expression, so sincere, genuine, and frankly _strange _on a demon's face, caused his lips to tug up in the corner, forming what he hoped was a heartfelt smile.

"Yes, Lizzie," he said softly, mostly because if he spoke any louder, his trembling voice would be obvious. "I look forward to it."

* * *

"Sebastian. . . ."

The demon turned around to look down at the young girl, eyebrow raised in a question mark. "What is it, my lady?"

"Ciel isn't just suffering from his asthma, is he?" The girl's bright green eyes were downcast as she hesitated before taking his offered hand and clambering into the carriage.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Lady Elizabeth," Sebastian said carefully. He wasn't surprised in the least, and he knew _exactly _what the blonde meant. Ciel's flawless façade had been severely lacking during this visit. For once, the difference between the young master Sebastian knew and the Earl Phantomhive everyone recognized him as was not nearly as prominent. Even Elizabeth, who tried so hard to keep herself in happy oblivion, couldn't miss how clearly distracted and unstable her fiancé appeared to be. He was once again reminded of the aftermath ensuing the incident with Baron Kelvin. His young master hadn't been able to follow a conversation to save his life, such was his inner turmoil. Meanwhile, only Sebastian was privy to the trauma he had endured—only his demonic butler knew that Ciel still suffered from horrific nightmares and relapses of more than just his childhood ailment. The butler knew that this information was entirely confidential. For everyone to know about what he had endured would be enough to finally push his young master over the edge, and that was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. He cherished this secret bond he had with Ciel, and he would never betray it—not even to the daughter of a marchioness who even frightened him a fraction.

"His eyes. . . They remind me of how they were for so long after his return. That look had finally disappeared, but now, it's back again and I don't know what to do. Sebastian. . . ."

The demon couldn't help but pity the girl. She cared so much but could do so little for the one she loved. He crouched down before her with his hand over his heart in his trademark stance and a smile on his face. The butler then used the other to hand her a handkerchief so that she could wipe away the tears that were threatening to fall. Elizabeth took it gratefully, dabbing at her face.

"Between you and me, there is very little you can do, my lady," he whispered, a somber expression replacing his smile. The look seemed to surprise the young lady, who was so used to his usual cocky smirks.

"Then there is no hope?" Elizabeth asked miserably, her voice quavering.

"No, I would not say that." Green eyes peered down at him curiously. "I believe I can help the young master, my lady. I have been with him through much of what troubles him now. I have an acute and unique understanding of the situation. But you must give him space, Lady Elizabeth. I know that you care very deeply for the young master, but this is a dire necessity. "

"You'll make him my Ciel again?"

"If I couldn't do that much for my young master, what kind of a butler would I be?"

Elizabeth giggled. "You've always been the very best, Sebastian. Thank you for taking care of Ciel for all this time."

Sebastian smiled back at her, rising back to his full height quickly. "Thank _you, _my lady. Such is expected from the butler of the Phantomhive. Now, you'd best be off."

The demon helped her into her carriage, smiling pleasantly as he paused before shutting the door. "Also, my lady," he said softly, "keep our little chat between us, yes? The last thing my lord needs is for the number of people aware of his ill health to increase."

_If I bring Ciel's wellbeing into this request, she'll keep her mouth shut—I'm sure of it. _

"Of course," the girl breathed predictably. "Goodbye, Sebastian."

"Farewell, my lady. Travel safely."

He closed the door and set the horses trotting before turning around, a self-congratulatory smile spreading across his face.

* * *

"What the hell did you think you were doing, telling her that I was ill?" Ciel demanded as Sebastian strode confidently back into his chambers. "I'm in no state to see anyone—you know that!"

"I know, my young master. But I assure you, it was not I who initiated the contact. Lady Elizabeth was quite persistent in calling upon the residence. I could not ignore her for much longer, nor make excuses indefinitely. Eventually, I was forced to inform her of your sickness."

Sebastian neglected to mention that it was the marchioness herself who forced the information out of him with some threats that even he found rather gruesome. Ciel wouldn't be pleased to learn that even his Aunt Frances knew of his illness; after all, it would only make him more anxious of unexpected guests dropping by. From his reaction to Elizabeth's visit, Sebastian knew he had to avoid such a thing at all costs. Hopefully, his little talk with his lord's betrothed would keep the rest of the Midfords from coming unannounced.

"I see," Ciel said, the anger at his butler quickly leaving his eyes. Sebastian resisted the urge to wince as they glazed over once again. "You always do remarkably well, Sebastian. I shouldn't have forgotten that."

"Don't, young master." Sebastian put up a hand to halt his young master's words. "You see, I am simply one hell of a butler."

"Indeed," the boy agreed, "and simply one hell of a teacher and—as I've already stated—a father."

"Young master," Sebastian said, shock spiking through his being. "You. . ."

". . . remember?" The child finished his statement with a smile that didn't quite reach his mismatched eyes. "Of course I do, Sebastian. Yes, I have indeed viewed you as my father ever since the day you saved me fr-from. . ."

He faltered, hands quivering noticeably on the comforter before him. Eyes were squeezed shut firmly, most likely in an attempt to block out the memories that came flooding alongside Ciel's admission to his butler. Sebastian watched with thinly veiled concern, ready to dive in and comfort his young lord if he couldn't subdue the recollection that was threatening to overwhelm him. As much as he hated to let his master struggle when he knew that he could help, the earl had to regain some of his strength on his own. The demon refused to become Ciel's crutch. Yes, he relied on him very heavily, but his mental health could not be added to that dependence. If Sebastian didn't know of the furious strength and fire burning within the little one, he wouldn't be standing there uselessly at this moment. But he did, and that fueled the restraint he desperately needed in this situation.

Surely enough, Ciel's breathing calmed and his eyes reopened, though they did not gain back any of their emotion-polished luster. His hands had stopped trembling, and he looked up at his butler with an expression of empty triumph on his features.

"You know better than to think about that time, my lord," Sebastian whispered softly, sitting beside him on the bed. Over the days Ciel had been bedridden, this formerly novel practice had become quite routine for the two.

"I know. Sometimes, I forget, and then it's too late."

"I understand, young master." Sebastian suavely brought the conversation back to his master's confession. "While I do not know what it is to have a son, I would be quite the liar if I told you that I didn't regard you in a similar way."

Ciel smiled weakly. "So, that's what would've made you a fool among your kind? You are that one demon who feels more than hunger or spite?"

"Perhaps, my lord."

"Do you know why?"

Sebastian looked at the boy in genuine confusion, his eyebrows furrowing. "'Why', what?"

"Why you would care for a human like me?"

The demon chuckled mirthlessly, the sound causing the child to shrink into his many pillows with instinctive fear. He smiled apologetically before responding, "Does my young master truly hold himself in such low esteem?"

"I am a child plagued in darkness by . . ." Ciel trailed off, but he didn't have another small breakdown. His butler inwardly celebrated that achievement, but lost any sense of joy at his master's next statement. "I'm tainted—dirty."

"Yes, you have been touched by evil acknowledged even by someone like me. Even a demon might've hesitated before committing the acts to which you were victim, my lord. But, even so, you retain this unusual knot of a soul within you—so filled with despair, love, confusion, hope, and anger. All of those things are so tangled up inside, one isn't identifiable from another. Yes, consuming such a soul would be beyond heavenly; but observing it, conversing with it, accompanying it—that's more of a pleasure than I care to admit."

"But the day my death comes to pass, you will consume my soul and transcend into Hell with me inside you?"

"There is a small secret I wish to relay to you, my lord." Sebastian bowed his head in humility, finally ready to inform his master that he once been on the same level as him. "When a demon consumes a soul, it is not as simple as it seems."

"What do you mean?" Ciel tilted his head to the side, bewildered. The butler smiled softly, knowing that if he didn't sate the little one's puzzlement soon, it would turn to irritation. He knew how his master hated being confused.

"Demons are not simply created, and they are certainly not immortal—merely extremely resilient. You saw for yourself how close I was to death after Undertaker impaled me with his scythe."

"Yes, you took nearly a week to recover. . . ." Dark eyebrows furrowed over his eyes, the confusion-bred irritation finally settling in. "Well, where are you going with this?"

"Acting as insurance for our survival, the souls we contract with are not merely devoured. A different fate lies in store for one who has turned his back on the gates of Heaven."

"Get on with it, what are you trying to say?"

But Sebastian could tell from the unease in his master's voice that he was already beginning to understand what his servant meant—and he didn't like it one bit.

"When a demon takes a soul within himself, he doesn't consume the entirety of the soul. He merely sucks the humanity out of it, leaving it as a soul belonging to another creature entirely. The soul would then be that of—"

"—a newly created demon," Ciel finished for him, his voice alarmingly calm. Sebastian was shocked at the lack of reaction in his master, but he chose to ignore it.

"Yes. Very good, my young lord."

"Does that mean that after my death, I will merely reawaken as a demon with no comprehension of the humanity I once possessed?"

"Not entirely. All emotions but hunger will be muted for quite a while, but that will soon lessen as your time spent as a demon lengthens. However, the difference between how you used to feel as a human and how you would feel as a demon would always be quite apparent to you. After becoming a denizen of Hell, you will find yourself forever lingering on how dull life is comparatively to when you were a dweller of mankind."

"You talk about this fate as if you were—are—victim to it."

Sebastian grinned at his little master, exposing his deadly sharp fangs. His eyes manically smoldered a phosphorescent fuchsia. "Very good, my lord; I must commend you for figuring it out. Yes, I was indeed a man—or, more accurately, a foolish boy—who made a deal with the devil."

* * *

**Author's Note:** All right, the fifth continuation of _Nightmare_! I don't really know where I'm taking this, to be honest, so don't ask me. Also, be sure to smack me if anyone's _too _OOC. I can't stand when I read fics where the characters don't even resemble themselves, so if I'm creating a story like that, please tell me! I won't be offended. But, keep in mind that Ciel really isn't himself, and Sebastian really isn't, either. I still want their characters to be underlying this little fact, so if that's not apparent, yell at me.


	6. Reaction

Ciel didn't react as his butler's confession came to an end. He had known where the conversation was going long before Sebastian had put words to it; but now that the demon had, there was a type of finality to it. His thoughts were no longer simple musings, but fact proved by the demon's own affidavit. He now knew that the end of this agonizing journey would not be a peaceful oblivion, because Earl Ciel Phantomhive would never die. He would perish, and he would be born again as a demon who felt only something akin to apathy through its insatiable hunger and was troublesomely hard to kill. He suddenly realized how fruitless his begging had truly been when that nightmare had come to haunt. Sebastian eating his soul wouldn't bring him peace, nor would it allow him reunion with his parents. No, the result of _that _course of action would be an existence filled with remembering emotions he could no longer understand and people he could never again touch.

How should he react to receiving such knowledge? The life of a demon obviously couldn't be pleasant, condemned to Hell as they were. And the true, pure _sorrow _he had seen shining in his butler's eyes as he spoke of his past. Could he endure yet another event in his personal tragedy? Yet, "could" wasn't the right word. He either would, or he wouldn't. There was no question of how he would end up; instead, his ability to function in spite of it was what he questioned. He knew that human emotions were painful—but was feeling close to nothing even worse? Ciel Phantomhive was not one to delve into the unknown with a brave face. He, a master at games of all kinds, needed to have a well thought-out plan before he even thought of acting. But this? There was nothing even he could do to know what it was to which he was fated.

He wanted so badly to tell the demon to get the hell out of his sight. His presence beside him was no longer comforting. To Ciel's greatest dismay, he was beginning to regard the demon as a threat—the very being that would steal the one thing he valued: his humanity. The only thing that kept the proud Earl of Phantomhive going was that potent vindictiveness he experienced for the ones who had taken so much from him. While it was an emotion that he knew ate at him and destroyed him, it was what he knew and relied on more than Sebastian. How could he survive without it? _My life . . . everything that it has been . . . will disappear. How can I possibly be expected to accept that? _

His eyes flickered over to look at his demon butler, who he found to be refusing to meet his gaze at all costs. His posture was rather downtrodden, seeming to deflate with each second that passed in silence. Ciel realized that Sebastian would have been much too wise to imagine that he would receive this information in good humor. The demon knew that he was probably turning the child against him, but told him crucial yet superfluous information in regard to the contract by his own volition. If the demon knew nothing but malice and malignity, why inform him of such a thing? Wouldn't prey that knew very little of the misfortunes that lay in wait for him be easier to ensnare?

"I see that my young master is not taking this information very well." Ciel looked up from his thoughts, shocked, as the butler got to his feet in resignation, his hair still conveniently hiding his eyes. "I will retire, my lord. Do try to get some rest."

Before the demon could abscond, Ciel grabbed his hand, forcing the demon to look at him. As he looked into Sebastian's glowing eyes, all of his queries were quelled in one instant.

If a demon couldn't understand humans or their emotions, why the hell was Sebastian gazing at him with such an expression in his eyes? He had said himself that he didn't wish to devour his soul right away—that he viewed him in a way he thought was in correlation with how one would view his son. Ciel would merrily label his divulgence as yet another lie hidden among truths if his actions prior hadn't absolutely proved it. If he didn't care about the young Phantomhive, why didn't he eat his soul when Ciel asked him to? Sebastian would have no gain from doing all of this, so the child could only come to one conclusion as to why the demon was acting like this.

Because he cared.

Finally, the boy rearranged his emotionless features into a weak smile. "Trust you to be stupid enough to make a deal with a demon."

Ciel knew the hypocrisy of such a statement, but Sebastian did not seem angry. Instead, his eyes were widened in shock, his mouth hanging open. The child snorted at the sight, unable to vanquish the large smile on his features. It felt so strange, smiling; after all, this was the first time he had grinned out of unashamed happiness in many, many years. The demon took one look at the expression and a beam of his own broke across his face, softening his sharp eyes—which had thankfully returned to their natural color of dark burgundy. As much as he accepted the demon for who he was, those coldly smoldering violet eyes of his were chilling even to him.

"True, I was quite anguished—much like yourself when you chose the same path as I," Sebastian commented, careful not to explicitly mention Ciel's trauma.

"I can't imagine that," the ashen-haired boy commented. "What could have caused _you _to be desperate enough to sell your soul?"

"You have to realize that I was basically an entirely different person," his butler responded, carding a hand through his hair. Ciel realized that it was a rather nervous gesture, which surprised him. Was this a difficult subject for his demonic butler, even after so many centuries?

"Sebastian, if you don't want to speak of it, you do—"

The demon put a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Hush, little one. I have no qualms about sharing this information with you. Relaying such details is long overdue, after all—especially when I know everything about you and you nothing about me."

Ciel nodded and waited for his butler to continue, which he did without hesitation.

"I lived as a human when the Roman Empire was falling in the third century. My name was Cassius, but I fear I cannot remember my surname, since I doubt I even knew it as a mortal boy. Forgive me, my lord." The addressed boy waved Sebastian's apology off and motioned for him to resume his story. "I had extremely abusive parents who despised me for merely existing. As they hated me so vehemently, they adored my older brother, Elianus. Eventually, they decided they could no longer support another son, even though they hardly fed me or provided anything for me. So, when I was around thirteen or fourteen, my father lured me into the forest and abandoned me there to die after giving me a rather vicious blow to the head. I had no hope of returning home, and I found I had no desire to go back in any case. I figured that dying there would be much less painless than what they would do to me if I were to miraculously return."

"I had no idea. . ." Ciel whispered, horrorstruck. But he knew that the demon wouldn't appreciate his pity, so he said no more on the matter. "Is this where the demon comes in?"

"Very astute, young master. Yes, that was where I met the demon who called herself Lamia. She saw me there, curled on the ground, bleeding, crying. You see, demons are drawn to places of great grief and sorrow, which was very much the case at that particular location."

The young earl narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to imagine Sebastian sobbing and lying there weakened. He found that he couldn't even procure a mental image that would even suggest such a thing, which bewildered him even further. "What were the terms of the contract you made with her?"

"So impatient, my lord." Sebastian smiled gently, but his eyes remained flinty. "This may be slightly indelicate to my master's tastes, but I will strive to keep profanity from entering your ears."

Ciel swallowed thickly, but he said, "Go on, then. I'm sure I can handle it."

"Lamia asked me what my deepest desire was, and I told her, quite simply, that I wanted more than anything to be loved. I explained to her how even God turned his back on my suffering, and how I wished for someone to care so deeply for me as Jesus did for mankind. Naturally, she found this to be quite amusing, and she told me that, for a price, she could make my wishes come true. Perhaps my head was slightly addled by my father's clout to my skull, but I told her that whatever she wanted was hers if she could fulfill my yearning."

"I don't quite get how that could be considered vulgar, Sebastian."

"Ah-ah, you didn't let me finish, my lord," the demon admonished, his face splitting into a strange, fanged smile. "It was there, in that fateful forest clearing, that I lost my—to put it delicately—purity to a demon."

"Wh-what?!" Ciel spluttered, a pink blush staining his cheeks faintly. "That—that was what the demon constituted as the love you sought?"

"Indeed," his butler responded, licking his lips sensually. "Quite worth my soul, if I do say so myself."

Ciel couldn't keep himself from laughing in disbelief at the combination of his butler's immodest words and expression, and his companion joined him in his quiet way. But then, he remembered the second catch to making a deal with a demon. The humor left Sebastian's eyes as the boy's face fell, replaced by a look of deadly seriousness.

"Was it worth becoming what you are now?" the child asked quietly, his eyes suddenly downcast.

"No," Sebastian replied decisively after thinking for a moment, tapping his forefinger against his chin in thought. "I was stupid, naïve, and petty, which I find to be most detestable and hateful. Ha, perhaps I am glad to be what I am—I can't have been the brightest human in existence. Can you imagine selling your soul for sex?" The demon laughed, his misgivings about the indecency of the situation gone. But Ciel ignored his attempt to brighten the atmosphere, his face dark and troubled.

"Is that how you saw me, Sebastian, when you were unknowingly summoned by me? Did you see me as a stupid, naïve, and petty child?"

"Absolutely not." Sebastian looked slightly reproachful that Ciel would think such a thing of him. "Your predicament was much worse than my own, little one. I even found the atrocities committed against you rather distasteful. You were brave—albeit terrified—enough to go to such lengths to save yourself. You were starved, beaten, humiliated, molested, and branded. Of course you wanted the people who did that to you to pay. How could I find such a motive petty? The people whom you target are the ones who stole your family, your childhood, and your innocence. You acted out of strength; I acted out of weakness. That is the difference between you and who I used to be."

"Quite the contrary," Ciel responded, clenching his teeth. "I was insane by the time I summoned you, Sebastian. You must have realized. You were—_are_—the only thing keeping me from becoming like those children at Baron Kelvin's."

Sebastian's eyes widened at the child's statement. Ciel knew that the outsized arrogance he flaunted in every situation had made such a confession look entirely unfeasible. But he needed to know the truth. Sebastian knew him better than any other; if he was creeping toward the precipice of insanity, the demon would tell him. His pride be damned. He_ needed to know. _

The child proceeded to smile bitterly, but he knew Sebastian could easily see through his expression to the pain beneath it, just as he always did. "I keep having nightmares, Sebastian. They were gone for such a long time. But now, they're back and I can't help but wonder if I'm finally losing my sanity—and I know you're wondering the same thing. Perhaps I should have lost it a long time ago, but somehow escaped that fate. I think whoever controls these things is finally attending to the breach that is my mere existence. I feel like I should be dead with my parents. There's this guilt that's always gnawing at me, and I can't seem to. . ."

The ashen-haired child trailed off, realizing he was rambling. Internally, his superciliousness screamed at him to take all of his words back, to gloss over the shameful things to which he had admitted in his skillful way. But he was tired, his sleep interrupted constantly by the nightmares mentioned. He wanted to sleep and cry and for Sebastian to hug him. His pride, frankly, could go to hell. It didn't have a place here; what purpose did it serve when in the presence of a demon who knew his soul more intimately than _anyone_? But beneath those whimsical desires and broken convictions, he knew how childish and queer he was acting. He liked to think that he had gained some sort of respect from his demon butler, but acting like this certainly wasn't solidifying this opinion in his companion.

"I know that you've been suffering from nightmares, my lord. I have been here ever since their reoccurrence to comfort you. I haven't retired to my chambers for the night in quite a while, choosing to remain by your side instead." Sebastian smirked good-naturedly. "I even let the cats out of my wardrobe so you could have my full attention."

Ciel seemed to forget how saddened he had been in his indignation. "Why, you—"

"As I was saying, I know that you are suffering, young master. But I don't believe that you are losing your mind. If I may be quite frank, you haven't been in ideal circumstances for your full recovery. Despite the trauma you have endured, you plunge yourself into the duties of the Queen's Guard Dog, witnessing what no child of your age should ever witness—cold-blooded murder, ruthless rape, the exploitation of children—firsthand. Even with my strength as your trump card, you are not immune to the effects of seeing such things day in and day out. You aren't losing your sanity, no. Instead, your daily experiences in the underworld are preying on your personal weaknesses caused by your tragic past. You snapped after observing the atrocities Baron Kelvin perpetrated, believing yourself to once again be in a cage as the members of that cult prepared to sacrifice you on the altar. Shortly afterward, you had another relapse as a result of watching me slaughter the Bizarre Dolls. Admit it, my lord; your job is chipping away at your resistance."

"I have to take on the duties of my predecessor," Ciel mumbled, turning his face away from Sebastian's pointedly. "It's my obligation as the heir of Phantomhive—I don't have a choice. And even if I did, I wouldn't make a different decision. The only way to find those who did this to my family and me is to make a nuisance of myself as the Queen's Dog so that they will target me. The sooner they come after me, the sooner you can have my soul." The boy smirked mirthlessly. "Won't all this despair just my soul even tastier, anyway?"

"You are so foolish, Ciel," Sebastian said, but he couldn't keep the smile off his face. "I would reprimand you, but the attitude you have is exactly what makes your soul so very mouthwatering. You will make quite the demon."

"Well, you will surely find out, won't you?" the dark-haired child teased. "Since you're the one who's going to turn me into such a creature, there's no way I'm going to let you off the hook so easily."

Sebastian reared back playfully, a haughty hand positioned over his heart. "Why, I would never even _dream_ of doing such a thing! I, get rid of you? You'd have a harder time trying to get away from me, young master."

"Do demons usually form such friendships?"

"No, not at all. The majority of a demon's life is spent in solitude, other than the humans upon whom they prey."

"You really are so strange, Sebastian. You're breaking all the rules, now."

"Rules only hinder those who pay attention to such petty things. _I _determine the rules I live by."

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of rules?"

"Entirely, my lord."

Ciel cocked an eyebrow at his smirking demon, but a sly smile of his own slowly turned one side of his mouth upward. "Will we remain here, in the manor, after you devour my soul as demons pretending to be human?"

Sebastian quirked up one brow in a question. "Why would we?"

"Well, I dunno about you, but Hell doesn't sound too pleasant to me."

"Ooh, young master, are you—I don't know—_afraid_?"

Ciel grit his teeth, glaring at his broadly smiling demon butler as all humor from before was forgotten. "Shut up, you! I'm not afraid! I'm merely accustomed to a certain lifestyle, and I must be certain that I will have that standard of living in the future."

"Well, I know for one thing, you will no longer enjoy the taste of the sweets you so often crave. The only thing that will taste sweet to you as a demon is blood, or a human soul."

The boy's mouth dropped open comically, causing the butler to stifle a snicker with his gloved hand. "What are you saying?" Ciel asked timidly, his mismatched eyes horrified.

"The parfaits, cakes, and cookies to which the young master is so partial?"

"Yes, what about them?" The small child was impatient now, the puerile remnants of his personality surfacing.

"They will taste like cardboard."

And so a cruelly laughing demon was forced out of his master's quarters, the door slamming closed behind the particularly angry Phantomhive.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This is a shorter chapter than usual, so, I'm sorry. I felt like I was drawing it out too much when I made it longer, so this is all you're going to get. This is the final _chapter _of _Nightmare, _but there will be an epilogue following it. If any of you can find a way for me to continue this fic in a way that won't stray too far from canon, I'd love to hear it. All of your opinions are so thoroughly appreciated by me.


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